Liar's Game
by Gryvon
Summary: Hellboy/Myers. John's given up his hopeless crush on Hellboy, at least until Hellboy catches him in an alley making out with another demon.


John is distracted the first time he hears the enraged shout. It registers in a back corner of his mind and goes no further. He's got a tongue in his mouth, a little longer than what he's used to and a lot more flexible, and there are appendages roaming his body, touching in just the right places. It all feels so, so good. Good enough that it takes him by surprise when it's all suddenly gone, ripped away with an angry snarl that sounds very familiar.

His mouth hangs open, cold now that the warm, wet pressure is gone. He blinks. It takes him a moment to focus. There had been quite a few appendages doing naughty things to his lower anatomy through his clothing, and his brain is momentarily stuck down there, mourning the loss of the pleasant friction.

Then John's realizes that that was Hellboy's roar he'd heard. All the color drains from his face. Mortification rips through him, making him wish for a convenient rift to open up and swallow him. Sadly, interdimensional rifts rarely happen when convenient. His embarrassment lasts for a whole five seconds, then Hellboy punches C'thala'rhyleh in the face.

"Hey!" His hardon dies a quick death as rage takes over, turning his pale face flush. It's a short alley. It takes him three steps to get into Hellboy's space. Hellboy winds back to throw another punch and John grabs his arm – the big one. It shouldn't be enough to stop him, John's not strong enough, but it does. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Hellboy stares at him in confusion. His brow knots as his face slides into a frown. "Saving your ass, that's what." He shrugs out of John's hold but thankfully doesn't swing yet.

C'thala'rhyleh takes advantage of the momentary distraction to flee to safety through the backdoor of Charybdis. A pulsing base beat from inside the club floods the alley for a second before the door swings shut again.

"Fuck!" Hellboy starts to chase after C'thala'rhyleh but John steps in the way. "Oh, no you don't. You've done enough damage here."

Hellboy's frown deepens. He looks distinctly like a child denied his favorite toy. It's less than endearing. "But..."

"Hells no." He drags both words out in the vain home that Hellboy will get the hint.

He does. Sort of. His arms fall to his side, limp. "But I saved you."

The crestfallen expression on Hellboy's face would have been endearing once upon a time. It isn't right now. Even if he didn't have a dozen reasons to be mad at Hellboy, he'd just ruined what had the potential to be the best sex of John's entire life. As it was, he was going to have to grovel mightily just to get back on speaking terms with C'thala'rhyleh. His chances of finding a date at Charybdis ever again had just died a large red death.

"No, you didn't."

Hellboy's confusion increases tenfold. "But he was... and the tentacles... That..."

John sighs. He'd hoped to have this conversation approximately never, but there's no avoiding it now. His earlier embarrassment returns, thankfully muted by his lingering anger. Of all the ways to come out, this was the worst. "That was a date, which you spectacularly ruined."

Hellboy stares at him like the words don't make sense. "That's a joke, right?" He says finally, with a hint of desperation, like he could will it to be true.

Sometimes John really hates how dense Hellboy is. "No."

"But you don't date-"

Anger flares in him, white hot, and it overrides everything else in his brain. He's normally not the type to interrupt but he can't stop the words from flooding out. "I don't date what? Men? Monsters? At all?" There's more involved than just one ruined date but he'll be damned if he's going to bring that up now, or ever. It's hard to keep the words he doesn't want to say in but he does. "There would have been a whole lot of that last one if that transfer to Antarctica you'd arranged had actually gone through."

He's not sure who he's mad at more, Hellboy or himself.

That's a lie. He absolutely hates Hellboy at that very second.

It's hard for Hellboy's face to pale, but he manages. The change in color is barely noticeable in the dim alley light. The rest of his features make up for it, practically screaming his guilt. John's not supposed to know about the transfer but people like John a helluva lot more than they like Hellboy, and they tell him things.

"You weren't supposed to-"

"Don't." John is suddenly sick of all of it – of wanting what he can't have, of petty drama, of Hellboy. "Don't even. Just go. I have a date to salvage."

He doesn't even give Hellboy a chance to leave. He turns and storms off. Silence fills the alley until John wrenches open the backdoor to the club. The pulse of the music draws him in.

* * *

He should know better than to think a back alley conversation would be the end of it. He gets in late thanks to his good fortune at getting back into C'thala'rhyleh's good graces. It had involved two blow jobs, five drinks, some mind blowing sex, and promises that he'd look into getting some kind of doggy training shock collar for Hellboy. It's not going to happen, but he spreads the idea around the B.R.P.D. and suddenly it's at the top of everyone's Christmas list.

He's only been there fifteen minutes when he gets a message from Abe calling him to the library and at first he naively thinks Abe just needs someone to turn the pages for him. The pleasant afterglow he's been feeling all morning dies a sudden, tragic death as soon as he walks into the library. Liz, Abe, and Hellboy are all gathered there waiting for him like it's a fucking intervention. Liz and Abe shoot him guilty, apologetic looks. Hellboy just looks furious.

"Look, scout, we need to talk."

John rolls his eyes. He hasn't had enough sleep to deal with this. There would never be enough sleep to deal with this.

"No, we don't. I'll just go and you all can go back to your wild assumptions, since obviously someone couldn't keep his big red mouth shut."

He turns to go but Abe's voice stops him. "John, wait."

Stupidly, he does. He turns and glares daggers at Hellboy, who at least has the decency to look like he's done something wrong.

"Hellboy was merely concerned for your wellbeing."

He interrupts his glare to glance at Abe. There's concern on his face, enough to make him wonder exactly what Hellboy told them beyond the obvious too much.

"I got that when he punched my date."

Liz's face twists into a mix of humor and interest. "What was it like? With the..." She does a weird convulsing sort of movement that's obviously supposed to signal tentacles.

Hellboy flails and splutters, which only seems to heighten Liz's interest. He has to fight to keep a grin off his face. A wash of pleasure runs through him as he remembers last night. The sex had entirely lived up to his estimation and then some. Judging by the way Abe suddenly turns pink, he picked up on it too. He really shouldn't but there's a vicious part of him that wants to see just how uncomfortable he can make Hellboy.

He grins. It's forced but only Abe notices. "Amazing."

Liz grins back, far more genuinely. It's hard to hear anything over Hellboy's spluttering so Liz just mouths 'later'. He actually kind of looks forward to that conversation because out of all of them, Liz is the only one who gets it.

Abe raps on the glass until Hellboy quiets. There are fragments of real words in Hellboy's spluttering but they're not even close to the realm of making sense.

When Hellboy finally stops, Abe speaks. "Hellboy, please. Your outbursts are hardly constructive." Hellboy's mouth shuts with an audible snap. It's a relief, at least until Abe turns to him. "Our apologies, John. Hellboy made the situation out to be much less... consensual. He was worried that you were under some kind of thrall."

Of course he did. John's glare comes back in full force. "I wasn't."

"He wasn't," Abe confirms.

Hellboy looks even less pleased at that. John feels sick. He wonders what about it is so hard to swallow – that John likes men or that John likes men who aren't human. It reminds him once more that he's never going to have what he really wants, or more specifically, who.

"It's not like that," Abe says, earning puzzled looks from Liz and Hellboy.

He must be broadcasting pretty hard for Abe to pick up on him without even touching him. He should feel violated but he doesn't because it's Abe and he trusts Abe with the deepest, darkest parts of himself. Also, Abe knows how to keep his mouth shut.

John exhales sharply and crosses his arms. "Fine. Just so we're clear, I'm gay, I like nonhumans, and sometimes I make out with them in allies outside demon bars. Any questions?"

He can see Hellboy try to keep the question in but he fails and blurts it out. "Tentacles? Really?"

"Yes, really."

Hellboy opens his mouth again and John can't take it. He leaves to go finish his rounds. He's going to develop a reputation for storming off at this rate but there's just something about Hellboy that makes John want to leave the room as soon as he enters.

It wasn't always that way. Once upon a time, he'd actually liked the guy. More than liked if he was being honest with himself. Then there was the whole Liz thing – and how could Hellboy even think he liked Liz when it was fairly obvious to anyone who really looked that he preferred men – and the almost end of the world and Antarctica. Great thanks for saving a guy's life and keeping him from turning full-on demon. He helped save the world and almost got transferred to Antarctica.

Any feelings he'd had for Hellboy had died then and there.

That, too, was a lie.

* * *

He's only a little surprised when Hellboy tracks him to Charybdis a week later. John's been avoiding him with spectacular success. It couldn't last forever but John will be damned if he'll be the first to give in.

Hellboy sits down next to John at the bar, clearing a wide circle around them where the press of the crowd had once been. He also scares off a very handsome banshee that had been chatting John up. John's pleasantly wasted, which is the only reason he doesn't leave as soon as Hellboy walks in. He's not sure he can stand right now, even if he desperately wanted to. He's not even sure he can find the floor.

"We should talk," Hellboy says in that tone of voice which means he's going to talk whether John wants him to or not. John signals for another round of beers. He's pretty sure he's going to need one.

The bottles come sliding down the counter. Hellboy catches them since John doesn't have the coordination to. He hesitates before handing over John's beer, but he does.

John takes a long pull from his beer. The last thing he needs right now is sobriety. "You know I hate you, right?"

Hellboy frowns like John hating him actually matters. "Yeah, I'd picked up on that. Liz has been making a big fuss about it."

John snorts. He'd punch Hellboy but the only thing that would accomplish is hurting his fist. He should know better than to think Hellboy actually gives a shit. He needs to tell Liz to mind her own business, though he won't because he values not being on fire. "Whatever would I do without Liz to remind you of my existence. Oh, yeah, make out with people you don't approve of. That turned out great." His voice oozes sarcasm, so thick John expects to see it coating the scant bit of counter space between them.

Hellboy's frown deepens. "I didn't mean it like that."

"You never do." He doesn't bother keeping the spite from his voice. It's better than sounding hurt, which is how he really feels. Being hit in the face with a mallet hurts less than this, though the world ending part feels familiar.

"John..." The way Hellboy says his name hurts more than it should. It's just a name, but it's his and it's close to the last thing he wants to hear coming from Hellboy's lips.

He doesn't want to hear what might follow, especially given the wistful-pained mix that clouds Hellboy's voice when he says it, so John preempts the conversation. "Maybe I should have gone to Antarctica."

A hurt look crosses Hellboy's face. It makes John want to scream. He's the one that got hurt. He's the one in pain. Instead of screaming, he punches Hellboy square on the jaw. It hurts. The alcohol dulls the pain but he can still feeling it. He almost falls off his stool but Hellboy catches him with one hand and pushes him back up. Hellboy's tail wraps around his waist, almost protectively, for a moment, before Hellboy seems to remember himself and pulls away.

John can practically feel his cred with the other patrons going up.

"I deserved that," Hellboy says.

"Yeah. You did."

They stare at their beers. Hellboy hasn't drunk any of his. John's almost half done. He kills it in one long swallow.

Hellboy doesn't look at him when he talks, staring instead at the weird mess of strangely shaped bottles along the back of the bar. "I never knew you were gay."

"You never asked."

"I thought... Antarctica... it was about Liz."

John swallows hard. It's a bad time to be out of beer. He wants another but knows he shouldn't, not if he wants to see a bed tonight. "It was never about Liz. Not for me."

"Then what..."

He stares at Hellboy until he gets it. It takes a while. Hellboy's face goes through an interesting range of emotion – shock, surprise, guilt, regret. Thankfully no disgust. John's not sure he could live through that.

"I..." Hellboy stammers. John turns away. He wasn't sure what he expected, or what he'd hoped for. He knew better, really. Finally Hellboy gets a full word out, and it's enough to kill the conversation there. "Liz."

"Yeah, I know." Despite his feelings for Hellboy, he's always known how this was going to end. When Hellboy and Liz had been on the outs he'd thought he'd had a sliver of a chance but now he knows better. Even when she was gone, she was never out of his thoughts.

It's not even a competition because John refuses to compete.

Hellboy leaves first, not even saying anything. He just gets up and walks away. John sits there for hours staring at his empty beer bottle. He doesn't go home until the sun comes up.

* * *

Liz finds him far too early in the morning. He's not hard to find. He's in his bed on base, trying to sleep and failing miserably. He never calls in sick. It's been a point of pride for him – perfect attendance all through high school and college – but he can't face people today, and thankfully no one questions it. No one but Liz.

"You look terrible," she says. The mattress dips as she sits on the edge of his bed. He can feel her heat through the blankets covering him but he doesn't turn to look at her. He can't.

He grunts a response. He's hung-over and guilty, which is not a good combination when faced with a friend who's also the lover of the guy he liked and maybe still does.

"Hellboy told me you talked."

He stiffens, because he knows Hellboy and Hellboy can't keep his mouth shut to save his life, let alone to save John from immolation by jealous girlfriend. There's a tiny part of him that thinks that maybe, just maybe, Hellboy didn't tell her everything they talked about. That part dies when she speaks again.

"I'm not mad."

If he were less hung-over, he would have inferred that from his lack of being on fire. Liz reads into his silence. She's always been good at that. Sometimes he thinks she can read him better than Abe can.

"I'm not. Really. I swear. I mean, I kinda knew back then that you had a thing for him. You were fishing. It was cute."

He doesn't think he would have described his desperate, one-sided crush as cute, but then he's never fully understood how Liz's brain works.

"I'm okay with it."

John's certain he didn't hear that right. He dares to peek out from under his cocoon of blankets. She's staring down at him, not quite touching him, and there's not even a hint of anger on her face. Instead, strangely, she's smiling. "Okay with what?"

"You and Hellboy. I think it's kind of hot. Plus he's clingy and if he had two people to cling to, then I could get some space."

His head protests mightily as he sits up but this is the kind of conversation that demands he be upright. "What?"

She shrugs, like it's nothing, like they're not talking about John sleeping with her boyfriend. "You have my blessing."

He stares at her. The longer he stares, the wider she grins until she has the whole Cheshire look going for her. "You're shitting me, right?"

She shakes her head. "Nope."

"And what does Hellboy think about this?" He can't for a second think Hellboy actually went along with it. Nothing in the way Hellboy had ever acted around him even hinted that he was attracted to John. Okay, so there was the question of what he was doing in the alley the other night to begin with and why he'd let John punch him and why he'd looked so hurt when John said he hated him, but there had to be other logical reasons for that. Hellboy doesn't like him, not in that way.

"He wants to fuck you."

John nearly dies right on the spot. Suddenly there's no air and all he can do is stare. His reaction pleases Liz. She leans closer.

"You have no idea how unbearable he's been since he found you with that tentacle dude. Un. Bear. A. Ble."

"Why?" He'd thought it was just a mix of homophobia and speciesism, but Liz's tone suggests something else entirely.

"He was jealous." She looks far too pleased with her pronouncement.

John stares. That can't be true, but at the same time Liz's tone is unmistakable. Hellboy was jealous. He feels like she really did set him on fire, but on the inside instead of the outside. He smiles – truly smiles – for the first time in weeks. "Really?"

"Totally."

Neither of them stop grinning for a long while.

* * *

Hellboy is alone when John knocks on his door later that evening. Liz is out at the movies and she'd left him with the vague instructions to 'have fun, maybe take pictures'. It's been a while since he's been in Hellboy's room. He paid Johnson to deliver Hellboy's food for the last few weeks, and he can see that the place has more or less gone to shit without him stopping by and picking up every few hours. Even with Liz's taming influence, the place is a mess.

"Just leave it over there." Hellboy doesn't even turn around from his TVs, just waves a hand in the general area where John always dropped off his food.

"Sorry. I didn't bring anything."

Hellboy spins around so fast that John worries that the chair is going to break. It doesn't, but it creaks loudly, letting its displeasure be known. Hellboy's eyes are big and round.

They stare at each other for a minute. John can't stop smiling, but that's been an ongoing problem all day. Hellboy's gaze runs over him and for the first time John sees it for what it is – assessing. He wishes he'd worn a tight pair of jeans instead of plain old slacks.

"I talked to Liz," John says, because just this once he can be the bigger man, figuratively.

Hellboy's face goes carefully blank. "Oh."

John has a feeling he looked quite the same earlier. He's tempted to drag it out, but there's a tiny part of him that pities Hellboy. He knows too well how it feels. "She gave me permission. Well, technically, she gave us permission."

Hellboy's eyes narrow. "Permission to what?"

"Fuck."

Hellboy stares at him. It takes him a second to realize that John was answering his question, not swearing randomly. His eyes shift back towards huge. "Oh."

John ventures another step deeper into the room, getting closer. He should have come up with a plan, something seductive, but he has no idea how to seduce Hellboy and he'd felt awkward asking Liz. Maybe later they could share pointers but right now it's all on him, so he keeps moving closers. Hellboy doesn't react. He just sits there, like he's waiting for Liz to pop out or for John to say it's a joke. He says nothing, just keeps walking forward until he's at Hellboy's chair.

He steadies himself with his hands on the high back of the chair and then slides forward, pushing his thighs up over the armrests and straddling Hellboy's lap. It's an awkward maneuver but he somehow manages to pull it off with a fair amount of grace. Hellboy's hands come up to steady him. John can feel the heat of Hellboy's touch through his clothes, right over his hips and he wishes they'd dip just a little lower. Hellboy still hasn't reacted so John leans down and presses his lips to Hellboy's.

The kiss is too light and entirely one-sided. Then Hellboy shifts, rocking John in his lap. His hands move down to cup John's ass at the same time as his mouth takes over this kiss. A thick tongue pushes into John's mouth and he welcomes it. Their kiss turns deep and just this side of brutal but John really doesn't care because it's Hellboy kissing him and that's far too hot for words. He squirms, earning him a loud groan from deep inside Hellboy's throat.

He does it again and again. Hellboy's hands help him and they're grinding in the chair. It's hot and heavy and John thinks he could come just from this. He doesn't want to come in a chair with his clothes on. It's a herculean effort to pull his mouth away, but he does, just long enough to whisper "Fuck me" in a breathless voice.

Hellboy growls and stands, taking John with him. The cats scatter seconds before they hit the bed. Hellboy's weight is on top of him, pinning him to the mattress. He can't move but he's okay with that. He's fine right where he is. His hips are forced wide by Hellboy's body. It seems appropriate. He's open, inviting. Hellboy takes the invitation.

John's pants are yanked off far too hard. He's pretty sure something ripped. He grabs the stub of one of Hellboy's horns and pulls him down into another brutal kiss at the same time as he rolls his hips up. They both moan. Between the two of them, their clothes don't last five seconds, and then it's skin on unnaturally warm skin and it's all John can do not to rub himself full body against Hellboy like a cat.

"Shit." Hellboy pulls away suddenly and John is tempted to echo his statement. "Shit, shit, shit." Hellboy pats around the mattress like he's lost something. He starts to pull away but John wraps his legs around Hellboy's waist to stop him.

"What's wrong?"

Hellboy looks down at him and groans. His face is even more red than usual. He didn't think it was possible for Hellboy to look flushed but he does. "Lube. Need lube."

John's eyes widen. He'd known what he was offering when he came in here but suddenly it's real and he could come just from that. He moans, because he can't help it, and that does neither of them any favors because they're both hard, pressed hip to hip, and goddammit they need that lube right now so Hellboy can fuck him.

"Please," John begs just to see what it'll do to Hellboy. A lot, apparently, because Hellboy suddenly slides a hand under John's back and lifts him, until all his weight is on Hellboy and it's possibly the hottest thing in his life. Their erections rub together. John buries his face in Hellboy's neck and moans into bright red skin.

Hellboy takes two steps to the side and rips out a draw so hard half the contents go flying across the room. Hellboy curses again, then bends, dipping John with him, to pick up something off the floor. John squeaks a little and holds on for dear life. Then Hellboy straightens and deposits John back on the bed. He bouces a little and stares up at Hellboy, who takes a step back.

There's finally enough space between them that he can get a good look at Hellboy's body. His penis stands up thick and proud, and it's big, definitely bigger than anything he's ever had, not excessively long but longer than normal and a lot thicker. He can't wait to have it inside of him. He spreads his legs, pulling his feet up to rest flat on the covers, and lifting his hips a little. Hellboy just groans.

"You're going to be the death of me," Hellboy says as he steps closer. There's a tube of lube in his hand and John isn't sure he wants to know why Hellboy has it aside from wishful thinking. Hellboy smears a generous portion in his palm and then strokes his cock with it, rubbing until his flesh glistens with it. Then he spills a little more on his fingers and reaches between John's legs.

Even Hellboy's fingers are ridiculously thick. John gasps as one pushes in. It would have been too much if he wasn't used to getting fucked on a regular basis. Even then, it's still a lot to take all at once. He lets his head roll back onto the covers as he relaxes into the touch. He closes his eyes and concentrates of the feeling of Hellboy's finger inside of him, memorizing the feel of it on the off chance this never happens again.

His fingers curl into the sheets when the second finger presses in, twisting the fabric tight. It's like being fucked by someone with a really short penis and he knows there's more to come. He's not sure if that makes it better or worse, but he's leaning towards the former. Then there's a third finger inside of him and he's pretty sure he's going to come just from this. His mouth falls open and all sorts of embarrassing noises fall out, almost like a cat in heat but thankfully not quite as loud or grating. He feels like he's in heat because all he can think about, all he wants is Hellboy's cock inside of him.

He gets it, and it's even better than he imagined – thick enough that he's almost afraid he's going to split apart and warm and slick and it makes him so, so full. He screams. He can't help it. His entire body arches into it and his hips buck, trying to force Hellboy in faster and deeper but thankfully Hellboy's hands are there to stop him, because there's a very good chance he could hurt himself if they weren't careful.

"You okay?" There's so much tenderness in Hellboy's voice that John opens his eyes. He almost wishes he hadn't, because what he sees when he does melts him with all sorts of emotions he hadn't expected to feel. There's something almost akin to love on Hellboy's face, or at least a very deep and abiding fondness, and it makes John feel like an idiot for all the bad things he's ever thought about Hellboy.

He nods because he's not sure he can form coherent words. His mouth hangs open in an O as he breathes – more like moans – hard and heavy while Hellboy pushes in. Then it stops and he realizes this is it, this is Hellboy seated inside of him and it feels like he's finally whole, filled to the brim with something he'd never known he'd been missing.

Then Hellboy moves and John's whole world flies apart. He's screaming again but neither of them mind it because their bodies form delicious friction together. It starts off almost maddeningly slow, softer and gentler than John really likes, but he can't complain when Hellboy could probably break John's hips if he thrust too hard. Hellboy's size more than makes up for the speed. He feels like he's being broken apart and put back together with every push and pull. His legs end up hooked over Hellboy's shoulder, pale skin a sharp contrast against Hellboy's red.

Hellboy picks up speed and all John can do is hold on. He wished there was something on the wall to hold onto – a headboard, a handle, something. There's nothing. His hands scramble against the wall, leaving scratches on the paint. He pushes back every time Hellboy thrusts in, trying to keep himself from sliding too far from the edge of the bed. His arms are going to hate him tomorrow but right now he can't care.

Hellboy's watching him, his eyes fixed on John like he's the only thing left in the world. Maybe he is. The whole world could have ended around them and John wouldn't care, not as long as Hellboy kept fucking him. He's going to rip apart any second now, he's sure of it. Hellboy's thrusts are getting faster and John's getting louder. Hopefully not loud enough that someone's going to burst in but that's not a too farfetched possibility.

Something presses against his lips. He takes it in and sucks on it, muffling his screams around solid flesh. Hellboy's hands are still gripping John's hips, holding him down while Hellboy fucks into him. It takes John a minute to realize it's not a finger in his mouth, but rather a tail, sliding over his lips and fucking into his mouth in tandem with Hellboy's cock. The realization throws him over the edge.

He screams himself raw around the tail as he comes. It's blinding. He sees hearts and stars and all that sappy shit, but most of all he sees red. Red over him and in him and pouring through him. He jerks a few times, shuddering through his release. His body goes limp and pliant and that only seems to make Hellboy fuck him harder.

Hellboy pulls out. John starts to protest but then Hellboy flips him, pushes him further onto the bed and then crawls up after him. John's face ends up in a pillow, which is rather ironic but also fortuitous because he screams again when Hellboy enters him in one quick thrust and pounds into him from behind. He just came but his body wants to again.

This is what he wanted. This is what he's been craving – for Hellboy to take him, to fuck him, to dominate him and use him and come inside of him. He gets that. He doesn't even have to wait long. Hellboy's thrusts are hard and erratic and he's coming in seconds, spilling into John in wave after wave as he roars loud enough to shake the walls. John's never been more thankful for soundproofing in his life.

When Hellboy finally stills, John's hips ache and he's a wet mess but he can't care enough to move. Hellboy settles carefully next to him, most of his weight on his side but a little, just enough, on top of John, pressing John down into the mattress.

"You okay there, sport?"

John groans nonsensical sounds. It's the best he can do. Hellboy's chuckle reverberates through John. "I'll take that as a yes."

John smiles. He wants to turn and curl into Hellboy but movement isn't really an option right now. It might not be an option at all tonight, so he hopes Liz is okay with sharing extending to the bed and not just Hellboy.

A warm hand traces over John's spine. "I'm sorry it took so long to figure this all out."

John huffs a laugh. It takes him a few tries to get proper words out, but he finally manages it. His voice is rough and unsteady. "Me too. Think of all the awesome sex we could have been having."

Hellboy laughs again. It feels a lot like being in the center of a warm earthquake. "What about tentacle dude?"

"He was nothing compared to this." He can feel Hellboy's pleasure even without looking.

Just this once, John could live with a lie.


End file.
